Dear Rodrigo
Dear Rodrigo,
We've been together a long time. They've been wonderful years, but I find myself needing to branch out now—to try something new. I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to come out and say it: I met someone new. Her name is McLovin.
Yes, it's a her. I know—I was surprised too. As you know, all my consorts have been male. I've never had a female before, but since I'm in this mode of trying new things, I decided to accept it and just go with it. McLovin is sleek and smart and sexy, and I'm quite taken with her. The name, I admit, is a bit unconventional, but when have I ever been attracted to the norm?
I'm sorry it had to come to this, but you have to admit we had a great run. I'll always remember the trips we took together—especially Buenos Aires—and the way you stuck by me through tough deadlines, staying up late with me to get things done.
You'll find someone to love you again. You're a great guy—reliable and solid. Yes, you've been around the block, but you still have miles in you, and someone is going to love to travel those miles with you.
Adieu, Rodrigo.
Pesky Possums
"Can I ask you a question?"
Turning away from the lush Oregon wine country scenery, I faced my date. The furtive glances he was shooting at me while he was driving made me a little cautious. "Is it a serious question?" I asked.
"Yes."
I considered telling him no, because who wanted to answer a serious question on the way to a fancy restaurant after a glorious day of wine-tasting? But I nodded, partly because I'm curious and partly because it looked like he really wanted to ask. "Go ahead."
"Are you going to blog about our date?"
I blinked. That was totally not a question I expected. "Would you mind if I did?"
"I don't know." He frowned. "Maybe."
"Then what should I blog about, if not our date?"
"How about the adjective-animal phenomena here in the Willamette Valley," he said, as if he'd given it some thought.
I blinked again. "Adjective-animal?"
"You know. The plethora of stores with adjective-animal names." He pointed at a passing building. "Like that one—the Dapper Frog. Or the Soapy Bear back in Newberg. We also passed a Caffeinated Cat."
He'd obvious thought about this, and it was very sweet that he was trying to help me come up with a blog topic. But I still didn't get why I would write about country stores with Mother Goose-y names. "I may be missing the obvious, but what would my angle be? Why would an adjective-animal blog interest my readers?"
"Because you wrote it." A big duh blatantly underscored his words.
"Um..." I searched for some kind of appropriate response, but I only came up with, "Thanks."
He glanced at me. After a moment, he said, "You're going to write about our date, aren't you?"
"Don't worry." I patted his arm. "I'll be sure to mention that you're an awesome kisser."
He perked up, suddenly less leery and perhaps even enthusiastic. "Can you also make me six-feet-four with washboard abs?"
Portland, Oregon
Continuing my gypsy lifestyle, I'm in Portland for a few weeks. What am I doing here? So far, work. I'd be mildly disgruntled but I like the projects I'm doing, so I'm actually happy hacking away at them, even though I'm putting in long hours. Never fear—I have fun and frivolity scheduled as well.
All that amounts to one thing: I haven't done anything interesting to blog about. Unless you count the episode on the airplane with little boy who jumped into my lap.
Fortunately, I realized this early enough in the day to brainstorm ways of spicing up my life for you guys. What did I come up with? Donuts, of course.
So I embarked on a perilous mission this afternoon, braving bus and train and strange Oregonians with lisps, to go downtown to The Realm of the Donut, known in Portland as Voodoo Doughnuts and Wedding Chapel.
A couple observations about the donut shop:
- The line was long. What are people doing getting donuts at 4pm? Don't they have jobs?
- Buying donuts at 2am is much more satisfying than at 4pm anyway. Especially after you've been butchering songs at the karaoke place around the corner.
- You should go in knowing what you want, because the sugar fumes will mess with you and make you think you really do need a bacon maple bar in addition to a Portland cream and one smothered with Coco Puffs.
- Milk is essential.
- If you need to walk off the subsequent sugar rush, the waterfront is right there and a lovely option. Also, there's Kell's—arguably one of the best Irish pubs in the states. A Guinness will always set you right.
No, I didn't buy more than one donut, and I only ate half of that. I'm losing it in my old age.
One of Those Blogs
I was going to write a manifesto on dating, especially for men, but I'm having doubts about that topic. Do I really care to help men get their woman? I don't, actually. I thought I did, but after enduring a weekend of endless texts and phone calls from men I (1) am not dating and (2) have no interest in dating, I'm going to say screw it. You men can fend for yourselves.
For the record, yes, I've told them I don't want to date them. I even pointed out to one of them that there are currently 3000 miles separating us, to which he replied, "When you come back, I have dibs."
Also for the record, the only person who has dibs on me is my sister. Period.
So then I thought I'd blog about my sister. Actually, it was her suggestion, because apparently I don't give her enough attention as it is. <— That was sarcastic. But she's been sick and uninteresting for a couple days now. Her new tattoo is pretty cool, but what is there to say about it? It's a dragon, and it's on her foot. End of story.
What I should really do is issue a press release to the city of Portland, Oregon, and its surrounding areas, because I'm headed its way. As I understand it, there is much revelry planned for my visit there, including tango, karaoke, and a Kell's extravaganza. That is, of course, around all the writing I'll be doing. <— Just in case my agent reads this blog.
So... What are you guys up to? Taxes? Spring break? Read any good books lately? Talk to me.